“Property of Harding Ltd.” Part Eight

“Property of Harding Ltd.”

Deborah Ford

Part Eight

1.

With an amused sneer on her face Miss Emerson leads them up to ground level. At times she looks over Daniel and Lizzie with a gleam of unabashed sadistic amusement.

As they ride up in the lift, both their leashes running to Miss Emerson’s one hand Daniel feels his mouth dry and his tummy revolve. He wants to cry.

Had someone offered to take him to the exit gates a few hours previous he would have jumped at the opportunity but now he would like nothing better than to return to the safety of the deportment room.

Standing next to him Lizzie stares into space, her eyes wide and frightened. Her breasts fill out her thin peter pan blouse, her arse superbly moulded by the tight shorts and her beautiful legs sexy in their white tights and boots.

He is dressed exactly the same save for natural coloured tights and a different styled chastity belt between his legs.

They each remember the posture drummed into them in the deportment room by Miss Emerson so they pose, one knee bowed before the other, elbows turned into the waist, hands sticking out. Neither dares say anything.

The lift trembles to a stop and after a long heart thumping pause the doors spring open onto the evening sunshine splattered around the castle courtyard. Bird chatter and a light wind fills their senses. They could be in another world.

Miss Emerson strides away, hips wiggling. “Come along girls. No slacking, but no hurrying either. Young ladies do not rush around!”

Their leashes grow taut until they too set off side by side, their heels twisting and turning on the cobbles. Daniel ensures his hips bounce to and fro and his thighs pass over each other with each step.

The movement is not fully ingrained yet already it would feel odd to walk spread legged like a man.

Their heels machine gun around the high stone walls and the brooding towers. Between two of the turrets is the portcullis. Through the steel grid he can see the road leading away for miles between the trees and rolling hills. They might as well be in a fairy tale world.

Lizzie leans closer to him and whispers, “is she really going to free us?”

“Maybe,” he whispers back but neither believes it.

They know they are being led to yet another humiliation and can do nothing at all about their predicament. Yet each holds a glimmer of hope, no matter how small, that they will be released.

Coming to an abrupt stop near a modern looking hut he can see a balding, uniformed man sitting inside reading a paper. He exhales with boredom as he flicks through the pages, until he glances up and sees the women approaching him then his expression grows into a knowing grin.

As soon as they stop both the white girls adopt the pose: one knee before the other, eyes wide open, lips slightly pursed, elbows tight in at the waist with fingers splayed out parallel to the ground.

With a click Miss Emerson releases the leash from their collars.

Daniel feels odd to be finally off the leash, not so much free as vulnerable and anxious. As if being attached to Miss Emerson afforded him some security.

“Mister Malcolm please open the gates.”

He calls back, “Yes Miss Emerson.”

The portcullis rises slowly. Deep within the walls clanking steel chains rub over stone. At last it grinds to a halt leaving enough of a gap for a small truck to pass beneath.

“Off you go sluts.” Miss Emerson smirks before waving a hand at the open entrance.

A wooden drawbridge runs over the deep moat leading to the roadway and freedom.

“But Miss Emerson,” Lizzie stammers, “we are miles from anywhere.”

“I am sure some lecherous perv will give you a lift. No man is going to drive past you two dream boats.”

“Erm Miss Emerson,” Daniel stutters. “What about the collar?” He touches the metal which has grown warm against his neck.

“As soon as you are home give Mister Harding a ring and then he will send you the key.” She raises her eyebrows, “or do you wish to stay sissy?”

Lizzie and Daniel look hard at each other, each silently questioning the other. The strawberry blond offers a smile of courage to him and he does his best to return it.

“No,” the two white girls say but the uncertainty is obvious. Can it be as easy as this?

“Then good bye girls.”

Daniel runs his hands over his humiliating smooth apparel. The translucent blouse revealing the ‘a’ cup white bra, the shorts so tight they seem to support him and the heels rising high. Can he really parade around dressed like this?

“Erm Miss Emerson,” he begins avoiding her eyes. “May I have my clothes please?”

The willowy blond laughs. “You are wearing them sissy.”

The two ‘white girls’ exchanged a glance as they summon up the strength to walk hesitantly towards the exit.

Daniel notices Lizzie pull her shoulders back and walk with the pronounced wiggle and he feels safer following her example. After all Miss Emerson is still within a cane swipe of his vulnerable, sticking out backside.

He notices Mister Malcolm is grinning. Daniel knows it is a trap yet he cannot stop himself advancing. He steadies himself with the knowledge that if he can get out and reach home then somehow he can help get his wife and daughters escape the horrible bully Mister Harding.

The heels slip on the rounded dangerous cobbles and his arms push out to steady himself.

“Elbows in sissy!” Commands Miss Emerson.

He finds himself complying, hearing Mister Malcolm laughing with a deep guttural sound.

A bleep, like that of a mobile phone. He gasps, it has come from his collar.

Then another bleep but this time it comes from Lizzie who fingers the steel about her neck with trepidation.

He recalls the nice Mister Temple’s warning. “If you stray out of the areas you have permission to use then you will be zapped.”

Another carefully placed step and the collar tingles, as if it is shaking on Danni’s neck. An electronic voice sounds in his ears. “Warning you are leaving your prescribed area.”

Daniel is terrified. He turns to face Miss Emerson who shooes him on. “Go on sissy. Be brave”

Suddenly even the risk of a spanking seems preferable to stepping onto the draw bridge.

Lizzie places a tentative heeled foot on the wood of the bridge. She then brings the next foot across. She waits for a long moment before her shoulders fall with relief. Nothing.

Daniel edges closer and suddenly they are holding hands for mutual support like two frightened children. He joins her on the worn drawbridge and swallows.

They are about to take another step when they hear the portcullis come crashing down behind them. They both jump and squeal, leaping into each others arms.

Miss Emerson and Mister Malcolm think this the funniest sight they have ever seen.

Daniel finds his teeth jamming together in anger at the vile pair of managers enjoying their discomfort. Somehow his indignation steels himself to be courageous, more courageous than at any time since school. He takes hold of Lizzie’s hand, announcing: “come on, we will show them.”

With that he flings back his new hair style and makes to advance.

Lizzie is decidedly less confident. She peeks back at the laughing Miss Emerson for guidance.

The skinny, tall manager simply raises her eyebrows as if asking, “”yes? Is there a problem?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t Danni,” she says under her breath to him.

“Be brave!” he says, aware of the tremor in his voice.

With that he wiggles a couple of steps forward until he can peer down the vertiginous drop to the moat.

He grips his new friend’s hand very tightly for support and she does likewise.

The air is cooler in the shade of the archway. Before them the long snaking road appears forbidding. Surely someone will pick them up. Freedom is only a few steps away now.

Suddenly Daniel feels his collar shake.

He stops, statue still.

“What is it?” Lizzie asks, the fear in her face visceral.

He barely raises his foot when he feels the sharp zap.

Screaming he grips hold of the collar. It now feels distinctly warm.

The robotic voice in his ears announces: “you are the property of Mister Harding and have not the requisite permissions to leave the prescribed areas. Return at once and notify a manager.”

He touches his earrings.

He hears Lizzie scream and almost wets himself. She is bent over, wriggling her arse.

“Take it off. Please. It is killing me!” She scrambles back to the portcullis where she collapses to the floor, sobbing on her knees.

Daniel squeals in terror and rushes to join her. They grip the portcullis and shake it. The steel is unforgiving.

“Please let us back in,” Daniel simpers. The tingling has stopped. He must stay close to the portcullis else he will feel the electrical charge.

“Yes, please,” cries Lizzie still rubbing at her neck.

Miss Emerson wiggles around to the opposite side of the steel mesh. “Well, well, well. I thought my two sluts were anxious to leave?”

They look up at her with huge eyes. “Please Miss Emerson.”

“Is that how two office girls should stand before there betters?” She says, as if admonishing two mischievous, young children.

The two white girls rise to their heels adopting the standing position, replying in unison, “sorry Miss Emerson.”

Miss Emerson pulls out her mobile phone. “You see girls. Every time you try and make a decision you end up in a right pickle. Do you understand that now?”

“Oh yes Miss Emerson. Thank you Miss Emerson.” Lizzie croaks.

Danni nods eagerly. “Yes Miss Emerson.”

The blond manager smiles. “You haven’t learnt your lesson yet. But you will.” She clicks open her mobile phone and taps out a few numbers. “Hello? Reception? Ah thank you slut, try and answer quicker girl. Will you tell the office managers there are two white girls at the castle gates desperate to be allowed in? Thank you my dear.”

She slips the phone away, smiling her lopsided grin. Daniel’s tummy twist into a knot. His eyes are wide and pleading.

“Now bimbos. In thirty minutes Mister Malcolm here will close the outer doors forcing you both down the ramp onto the drawbridge. I hesitate to imagine the pain from the collars.”

“No please!”

“Wait bimbos! Don’t you dare interrupt an office manager!”

“Sorry Miss Emerson,” they chime in harmony.

A door near a castle tower opens and three sturdy looking men appear in neat suits. They take one look at the girls and laugh.

From across the courtyard two men and two women in neat trouser suits race towards them over the cobbles.

Daniel feels a tear in his eyes. “Please Miss Emerson, I have learned my lesson. I promise.”

“Excellent Danni. Now all you have to do is convince these nice hard working managers that you want to stay.”

A few more women and men from the offices join the small crowd. There is an air of expectancy and fun.

Miss Emerson is clearly enjoying herself. “Danni did you wish to ask the managers something?”

Danni licks his lips tasting the sweet pink lipstick, his tongue feels heavy and dry. “I, well I …” he turns to Lizzie for support but she is terrified.

Lizzie touches the steel bars. “Please sirs and madams I want to stay here in the castle.”

Danni nods eagerly. “Yes me too please.”

A man with a beer gut and reddened face approaches them. “Shut the fuck up sissy.”

“Yes sir,” Danni replies quickly.

He turns his attention to Lizzie. “How long you been here slut?”

“Lizzie mops a tear away from her cheeks. “Oh I don’t know. Just a day sir.”

“And you already want to leave us?”

“No sir. Please I wish to stay.” She looks to Danni for help.

He takes his cue, jabbering, “please sir, if I may speak, it is just that I thought I …”

“You did what?” He grins.

The managers laugh.

“Well I , I mean we , we thought that …”

“Oh you thought did you?”

“Well I …” his voice peters out.

A woman with a lightly dyed blond hair and a neat grey, short skirted business suit steps close to the bars. “Sissy don’t you look the part?”

“Erm, yes, er, thank you madam.”

He tries a simple courtesy and is greeted with more laughter.

“Now then sissy let us examine your situation shall we?”

“Yes please madam.”

“Poor bimbo sissy did some thinking for herself?”

The crowd laugh.

Danni raises his palms. “Well I sort of …”

“And poor little sissy is now in hot water isn’t she?”

Danni nods shame faced.

“All because you tried thinking for yourself. My, my, my.”

Tears blur his vision but he can fully see her cruel smirk. “Yes madam. Sorry madam.”

“So what have you learnt sissy? Tell me.”

He stares hopelessly at her hoping for a clue. “I don’t know I …”

“Oh you are a real bimbo aren’t you?”

“Yes madam. Sorry madam.”

“Let me help you shall I?”

“Yes please madam.”

“Sissy thinks for herself and ends up in trouble. So what lesson have you learned?”

“Er, not to think for myself Madam?”

The men and women cheer and clap. Daniel feels his face grow red hot.

“So,” the woman smiles, “why don’t you get down onto your knees and thank me like a good little sissy for the lesson.”

A tear swells in his eye blurring everyone’s leering grinning faces. He leans close to the metal grating. “Er please Miss that would be very humiliating may I …”

The woman beams. “Oh? Is the sissy thinking for herself again?”

He swallows feeling himself try and shrink to nothing. There must be some way out of this predicament. He looks to Miss Emerson who folds her arms beneath her small boobs and smiles. He faces Lizzie looking for support but the poor strawberry blond is terrified.

Nothing for it. He slips down to his knees on the stone flags feeling his tights rub against each other and the shorts tighten between his legs squeezing upwards. His little tits seem to fill his blouse out as he looks up from his humbling position.

“Erm, I er …”

The woman cocks her head to one side. “I can’t hear you.”

Clearing his throat he places his palms on his thighs as he stares up at her. “Thank you very much for my lesson Miss.”

“And what was that lesson?”

“Not to think for myself.”

He fixes his eyes into space so he doesn’t have to witness their mocking grins.

One of the men steps up to Lizzie. “And you slut. Have you learned the same lesson?”

“Oh yes sir, yes definitely. Definitely. Please I really have,” she gushes.

He puts his hand through the bars of the portcullis to gently stroke her cheek. “So why don’t you thank us like your sissy friend here?”

Lizzie takes in Daniel as if she has only just noticed him kneeling before the crowd. “oh yes, yes of course.”

She drops gently to her knees to look up at the man with huge eyes. “Thank you for my lesson. I promise never to think for myself again.”

Putting his hand through a lower part he strokes her hair. “Now then slut is there anything you can do while you are down there?”

She shakes her head. “I er, I er …” She looks up at him for a clue.

Gripping her hair he lifts her so she kneels up with her arse no longer resting on her heels,

“Now form your mouth into an ‘O’ shape.”

She raises her palms and shakes her head. “No. No. Please no sir.”

He pushes his groin close to the metal, his groin now inches from her frightened face. “I thought you said you had learned.”

“Please sir, not here. Not like this. Not in front of everyone.”

“Form your mouth into an O girl before I give you a slap.”

She lowers her head and Daniel checks the enthralled faces of the other managers. He guesses she has opened her mouth into the desired shape.

He hears a zip and some rustling. There is a gentle groan from Lizzie and then she mumbles as if gagged. Daniel cannot look at her plight. He hears a man muttering “good girl, good girl.”

“Am I the first?” The man calls out.

Miss Emerson shakes her head. “Alas no. She is a real slut. Her mouth was in use within minutes of being collared.”

They all laugh.

Daniel dies. A huge shadow has loomed over him. He looks up at a man in a neat dark blue suit, white shirt and tie. “What about the sissy? Has her mouth been fed yet?”

“Sadly the sissy’s mouth is off limits. She is totally untrained.”

The man’s gorilla sized hands push through the bars to grip Daniel’s hair. He feels himself tugged up to the steel until his nose touches the man’s fly. He wants to scream but knows he must not.

“No time like the present to start her training Miss Emerson.”

“Oh now, now Mister Woodley. I will let you know when she is ready. I can see you have an eye for a good sissy.”

The hand tightens in the back his hair tugging back his head. He squeals before freezing in terror. Mister Woodley is using his free hand to unzip himself.

“Well surely you have no complaints if the sissy uses her little hands?”

Miss Emerson approaches them her face screwed up in painful thought. “Well it is a little unorthodox I must say.”

“But she looks so cute kneeling there, her cock sucking mouth open.”

Miss Emerson nods. “She does. She is very promising. Perhaps a little stroking won’t hurt.”

Daniel whimpers as Mr Woodley flips out his semi engorged cock. Daniel has heard that some men have cocks larger than even four and a half inches but only now can he believe it. Semi engorged it rests in his tormentor’s hand like a fat sausage. It is already 6 inches yet barely erect.

“How kind of you to assist in the sissy training Mister Woodley.” Miss Emerson crouches down, her black shorts tightening around her hips. “Sissy, gently take mister Woodley’s offering in your hands and play with it.”

Daniel tries to shimmy back on his knees but Mister Woodley pulls his hair upward shoving him right up to the portcullis with his stiffening weapon now pointing straight between Daniel’s eyes.

“Please Miss Emerson, please … I …”

“No need to worry about pleasing him sweet sissy. Just take it in both your hands. Go on. It won’t bite.”

As he takes hold of the cock he feels his shorts and tights rubbing over his own groin. The bra straps constrict around his shoulders. He is aroused with his cock filling the cage. Light headed he feels his tormentor’s cock stiffen and enlarge in his hands.

Instinctively he knows what is required of him and pumps gently up and down.

He hears mister Woodley’s moans blend into a rhythm with Lizzie’s making greedy gulping noises.

Close to fainting he is desperate to cum himself and feels all his desires merge into this horrible man’s cock.

Back and fore, back and fore.

From miles away he hears Miss Emerson. “Gentlemen, pull the two girls closer together. I think we have an event happening here.”

With his eye closed and himself floating on an orgasm he knows will never come Daniel feels himself guided manfully to his left until he bumps onto Lizzie’s soft form.

His eyes open just enough to see the two suited men standing next to each other and he can just about make out the blur of the strawberry blonde’s hair bobbing towards the bar. He can hear Lizzie whimpering with excitement. She mumbles “oh please” around the cock in her mouth.

The penis in his hands is now rock hard and pulsating. Mister Woodley mutters “now sissy now.”

“Mister Woodley, please wait for Mister Jackson. Lizzie suck harder girl or you will spend the night out here!”

Lizzie pants faster.

“Now gentlemen, now!”

Daniel opens his eyes in shock. What is she asking for?

He wishes he had kept his eyes closed.

As camera phones flash and click he watches Mister Jackson’s cock being pulled dribbling from Lizzie’s mouth before it fires its load over her face. A split second later Mister Woodley gives his cock a flick with his own hand and the spunk balloons in Daniel’s face.

Daniel and Lizzie both squeal with shock and indignation.

The fluid is warm and glutinous, sticking to their faces like porridge.

The portcullis is winched noisily upwards. In a single action their leashes are reattached and Miss Emerson is jerking them to their heels. Daniel starts to cry.

Shame prevents him looking around the courtyard but he knows from the footsteps and chatter that people are leaving. The show is over. He has been the entertaining spectacle.

He raises his hands to wipe away the mess.

“Sissy hands behind your back right now!”

Miss Emerson has spoken so sharply he complies immediately even though he longs to wipe away the degrading mess.

“You too slut!”

“Please let me clean myself Miss Emerson,” Lizzie whines.

“Your slutty hands behind your back over your slutty fat arse right now!”

“Yes Miss Emerson.”

“Now both of you tramps turn around.”

They do so, Daniel feeling his body mould into the outfit he is wearing.

“Oh!” he squeals.

The cold metal cuffs surprise him. With his hands trapped behind him he feels totally used, ashamed, humiliated and helpless. A sissy on the end of a leash he hopes will lead to the safety of the castle.

Some cum drips down to his lips which he closes tightly. Otherwise the fluid sticks to his skin like some glutinous glue.

“Come along you tramps. You have had enough fun for one day.”

Miss Emerson ambles slowly back over the cobbled yard to the shadow of the castle wall. Her arse bounces rhythmically. The leashes tighten as he feels themselves dragged across the courtyard.

“Remember your sexiest walk girls.”

Daniel is lost in a world of humiliation and rich eroticism. He desperately must cum. He would do anything to have his cage removed.

Lizzie is breathing deeply beside him, every so often emitting a longing sigh.

He pulls at his cuffs and squeals in futile rage. A tear joins the mess on his face.

A man and woman in the office garb march pass them as if they do not exist.

Inside the cool of the castle tower they soon find themselves in the lift descending back to the cells.

He sees Lizzie throw back her head and rub her gorgeous thighs together. She moans pitifully. A slut in need.

Seeing Miss Emerson’s back is turned to them he discreetly tries rubbing his own nylon clad thighs. It just makes him feel more frustrated and hot. But it is such a beautiful feeling he rubs faster hearing himself groan.

The lift doors open and the two hot girls are dragged down a corridor for only a short moment before they are pulled into a cosy room with sofas, deep carpet and a few cupboards.

“Miss Emerson,” Daniel whines like a little girl. “I so much need to …”

“I know what you pair of sluts want. You tramps.” Miss Emerson cuts in. “Good girls get rewards. Naughty girls get punished.”

“I promise I will be good,” he squeals.

The tall blond laughs at him with her usual lop sided sneer.

“I will too Miss Emerson. Please let me cum,” Lizzie pleads.

“My, my. Playing hard to get are you? Sluts. All the same.”

Miss Emerson has pressed a button and a short metal bar descends from the ceiling supported either end by a thin sturdy chain.

“Here sluts.” She indicates a space next to the bar.

Daniel and Lizzie comply.

Miss Emerson unattaches a chain from one end of the rod before sliding the loops of the leashes’ handles down the bar. She then reattaches the chain to the end of the bar and returns to the wall. A press of a button and the bar rises back to the ceiling.

Daniel feels his leash grow taut and for an awful, horrific moment thinks the beam will carry on rising until it hangs him. But it stops with a foot or so of give in the leash. He is able to back away from the panting Lizzie.

The blond “hmms” in thought. “Get down on your knees girls.”

They obey. Danni feels the bristling carpet through his tights and his shorts grip his backside. The leashes are now fully taut forcing them to kneel upright.

Crouching beside them Miss Emerson giggles in satisfaction. “There is sufficient play for you to get to your knees but not for you to lie down. Nor can you reach the furniture.

Daniel pulls at his secured wrists. The cuffs are unyielding.

“Now then girls the only way you can clean your man load from your faces is to lick each other clean. Like two good girly pals.”

“No way,” Lizzie cries.

“Please Miss Emerson,” Danni pleads. “I can never do a thing like that.”

The blond ruffles his neat short hair. “Oh sissy you will be surprised at what you can get up to under our firm rule.”

Squirming around on his knees to face her with a determined glare he replies, “I think I should make it absolutely clear that I am not gay, I am not happy at helping a man cum and I am most certainly not going to lick a man’s,” he cannot bring himself to say the words, “a man’s, you know, his … well I am not going to lick it up. Full stop.”

He gasps at the temerity of his language. Will she beat him?

“What a brave little tiger you are sissy,” she laughs at him before standing up so her long thighs in her black tights fill his vision.

How he longs to kiss them.

“Well what can I say to such a determined little girl? Oh yes, how about the small matter of Miss Hodgson is on her way down to see you.”

“Who?” Daniel furrows his brow. The name is familiar.

“Oh what a bimbo memory you have,” Miss Emerson laughs. “Davina Hodgson? Ring any bells. Seems to want to see you.”

“Oh my god. My wife!”

“Sissy’s aren’t allowed to have wives birdbrain.”

“But Hodgson is her maiden name!”

“Miss Hodgson to you sissy and never forget it. Shame she has to see you covered in a man’s spunk like that.” She opens the door. “I reckon you have about two or three minutes to get that stuff off your face. I wonder how you will achieve it.”

The door closes and Daniel stands on his heels in panic. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

He tries to rub his splattered cheek on his shoulder but with his hands cuffed behind his back his shoulders move away from him as he lowers his cheek. “Oh my god!”

“Don’t panic Danni,” Lizzie whispers reassuringly.

He glances up at her seeing the thick juice glistening around her cheeks and nose.

He tries to reach the nearest sofa but the leash around his neck pulls him short. “Oh my god!”

He drops to his knees trying to bow his face to the carpet. One good wipe will do it.

But it is no use.

Miss Emerson has judged the leash length to perfection. Lizzie drops on her knees next to him. Her full breasts rounding out her pretty blouse. He is aware of his sharper smaller mounds inches from hers.

She kisses his nose. “Sissy we don’t have a choice. I will clean your face if you will clean mine.”

“Oh that is so sweet!” Danni gushes, close to tears. “Please don’t ever tell anyone about this. Please.”

She kisses his nose again. “Our secret.” With that she leans close to him licking at his cheek.

He sees a transparent white fluid on her lips. It reminds him of icing before it is poured onto a cake. Her cute face is covered with dull white spatter. He knows what he must do. He leans forward in horror, closes his eyes and creeps out his tongue. He touches the wetness and recoils.

Lizzie’s eyes widen. “You must do it Danni.”

He licks at a sticky clump on her chin. His tongue remains half in his mouth half out as if he doesn’t want it to touch the sides of his mouth. That would be disgusting.

Leaning close to him she gives him a long lick up the side of his face.

He closes his lips tasting the masculine, nutty tang. It is almost like almonds. He swallows, feeling repulsed.

“Other side Danni.” She turns her face slightly. “We must be quick.”

Desperately trying not to taste it he swallows the gooey juice quickly, but he cannot help himself. It has a nice taste, like a pudding. He gives her another lick and she in turn mouths around his nose hoovering up its sperm.

They edge closer so they are kneeling with their groins tight together, breasts touching, licking and sucking each other’s faces.

Their stockinged thighs rub tantalisingly together. He finds himself grinding his imprisoned genitals up against hers. Somehow, no matter how hard he presses, he cannot get any feeling in his dick. He can feel the metal of her own chastity belt beneath her soft smooth clothes.

He is mouthing hard at her now, as if he is drowning and she can save his life.

He hears her moan and then he hears another longer moan. Is that him?

It doesn’t matter. They are enthralled. Squirming on their knees at the end of their leashes. Kissing and sucking each other’s faces.

The inevitable. Their mouths part join and they are kissing passionately. Their bodies pressed tightly together, squirming with passion.

The tightened leashes will not let them collapse to the carpet to roll around to fuck each other so they are left tormented by their chastity belts and their positions. Lost in lust.

The voice echo in his head from miles away. “Danni.”

It grows louder, more insistent. “Danni, Danni!”

He pulls apart from the object of his lust, his mouth hanging open gasping for air like a fish out of water. His sight is blurred.

“Yes?” he asks with a croak.

Lizzie starts kissing him again and Daniel hears two women laughing. He looks up to see Miss Emerson with her hands on her hips her superior sneer tearing her head in half.

Next to her is attractive short woman, with a sexy mischievous face.

“Darling!” Daniel says rising but swaying on his heels.

His wife purses her lips. “Well, Miss Hodgson to you Danni. But please don’t let me interrupt. I can see you are otherwise engaged.”

Daniel feels Lizzie’s wet lips kissing and sucking at his thighs and groin. “Stop!” he squeals. He backs away but his leash grows taut and by half standing Lizzie can reach him with her blind yearnings.

Daniel raises his thigh to try and push her face away but she licks it voraciously.

“Stop it slut!” He screams.

As if shaken awake Lizzie opens her eyes and stands upright on her own heels. Her eyes are half closed as if drowsy but her lips are pursed and angry. “What’s a matter sissy?” She asks sarcastically.

Daniel nods in the direction of the two women. As the red head turns around her cheeks glow hot red. “Oh,” is all she says. “Erm, sorry.”

Davina folds her arms. She is wearing a neat business suit like the women he saw in the court yard. The skirt is shorter and tighter than he is used to seeing her wear and the heels much higher.

She smiles. “Well Danni what are we going to do with you? Eh?”

End of book one.

38 thoughts on ““Property of Harding Ltd.” Part Eight

  1. Thanks.
    At last we see Danni’s humiliation continue. This delightful yarn could keep us happy for years.

  2. Well, it was worth the wait. Thank you ooh so much! For now, all one can do is be grateful, reread this gem, try to imagine how Danni’s relationship with her wife and daughters will develop, and wait for I wonder how long. Michelle

    1. Thank you so much Michelle.

      As you know writing stories as long as this requires blocks of time being available and sadly when my world gets busy it drags me away from my hobby. I cannot see the next book being available this year.

      DF

  3. I for one am dissappointed. The bullet point writing style instead of actual paragraphs is tedious. The obvious plot, and the even more expected let down where the story promises much but goes nowhere. Tediuos. If we have to wait another three months for something like this? Let my grandkids know when it’s a complete story, maybe they’ll wake me up.

    1. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts Pansy.

      I am sorry you are so disappointed, though I have to ask if you don’t like my writing style, of short paragraphs, my story lines and find the tales tedious then why torture yourself by reading them? As for being predictable if you don’t know where a Deborah Ford story is going by now then you haven’t been paying much attention. Anymore than you would know where a Sherlock Holmes story or James Bond story is heading before you even turn the first page.

      There are many excellent writers working hard in this genre and perhaps you you will feel happier with one of them.

      As for the time scale of my delivery you must understand that each chapter takes time. It is a hobby to be fitted into the other demands the world makes on my time. If I could be paid for it then obviously I could take time off work.

      Nobody sets out to write a bad novel, it involves too much time and effort, and no one can write stories that everyone will appreciate particularly in the erotic fantasy world. I hope that next time you are disappointed with someone’s work you balance those thoughts against your disappointment. Many fine writers stopped sharing their work on fictionmania because of unpleasant reviews.

      Good luck in finding stories elsewhere more acceptable.

      DF

  4. Deb, I was afraid of just this sort of thing happening. You’d take my honest thoughts as discouragement.

    I considered just giving you another sugary review like everyone else does before I wrote my opinion, but my opinion is just that… my opinion. And my opinion is that you are better than this. If that hurt your feelings, then I am sorry for that, I’d never want to hurt your feelings or discourage you in any way. I figure your opinion trumps mine, and that you’d know that.

    Write, or don’t write the next chapter. It affects me not either way. If you are so thin skinned that my remarks make you stop writing it altogether, well… it doesn’t punish me.

    I’m also sorry that my e-mail address is a sham, you can’t write to me.

    1. Pansy,

      I write because I enjoy it. I publish because I like to share my tales and become involved with the readers. I have never been vulnerable to criticism in the way of other authors. Nor will I block negative remarks such as yours on my site. Your first review was unpleasant and I responded to that.

      As that great philosopher Oliver Reed once said, “when someone buys me a drink then I buy him one back. When someone thumps me I thump him back.”

      I wish you well.

      DF

  5. Apparently Harding has already co-opted Davina and possibly her daughters and has informed her that her weakling husband is being reduced to a cipher. What will happen next to our latest hapless, hopeless, gormless, pathetic
    anti-hero. Can’t wait!!!

    1. sadly it will be many months before I have the time to write the next book but many thanks for your kind comments.

      DF

  6. Very much enjoyed this tale Deb.

    While the tale is familiar (as you said: if you don’t know what a Deb Ford story is going to be about going in, you haven’t been paying attention), it’s always the little details that I enjoy so much in your writing. I particularly love the notebook on the back of each girl. I think that is a very delightful little device and one I hope you really utilize in the future installments. The final scene outside the gate was also great fun to read. I hope you keep going with this one (as time permits of course).

    -Lissa

  7. Deborah,

    I very much enjoyed this erotic tale. This is as much a story about power, and the lack of same, as it is about sexuality. The two are so intertwined.

    It is not enough to only humiliate Danni, but also to make him (now her) see the futility of any resistance.

    Very well done.

  8. Thanks for chapter 8 Deb. I’ve been looking forward to it for some time and will continue checking for more. Seems there is a long way to go for Danni and I for one look forward to reading about his path total acceptance and transformation. It’s a great story and one of the best of read along on the subject.

  9. Of course when DF stories were something new we weren’t sure how they would turn out, and that certainly helped make things more interesting. Now, many tales down the line, I suspect there are quite a few ‘old school’ fans who are hoping for more twists, turns and surprises than classics like The Hotel offered. The latter story is one of my all time favourites, to the extent that I gave more than a passing nod to it in one of my own stories, but it was written a long time ago now.

    When I first saw Pansy’s comment, I thought it rather harsh and lacking in balance or detail that could make it constructive, but I could see where she was coming from even if I didn’t particularly agree.

    While DF’s writing style has (IMHO) improved – I certainly didn’t find the sharp delivery tedious – the content hasn’t changed sufficiently here to really justify a new story. I too am disappointed, having expected more growth from the author. At this point, as a postscript to the FM tribulations, I was rather expecting a magnificent opus. What we’ve got so far is a story that would have been awesome as a first work, but as a fourth large work (and there are many smaller stories from DF too) it doesn’t offer much that is new. However, it’s early days yet, only the start of the story, so there is *still* hope that this story might start to make us really wonder what will happen next, offer twists and surprises that we haven’t seen before, genuinely new scenes and scenarios, and an ending that is not absolutely predictable and a simple execution of genre rules.

    Perhaps if this installment had arrived close to the others there would be less expectation hinging on it, but the fact is that some people, including myself, do have high expectations of DF at this stage and if they aren’t being met then maybe it’s time for her to take a step back and consider what she wants from this process and whether she is getting it. Who is this story intended to please, and how? In the end there will always be some who don’t like it but she has to do the work of writing and she ought to be happy with the result. Also, if she fully believes in this story, she shouldn’t be afraid to defend it in so far as that makes any kind of sense.
    If that defence takes the form of the rest of the story, then I shall happily read it.

    1. Thank you for your considered critique AmyA.

      I am not sure why you believe an author ought to improve with subsequent tales. Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain being such an extraordinary work that nothing he could write subsequently could the match reader’s expectations. Have any of M. Night Shyamalan screenplays matched his third, The Sixth Sense? Nor why my current story ought to be magnificent “as a postscript to the FM tribulations.”

      The old axiom holds. A writer writes, to which I ought to add, fully aware that many may be disappointed.

      I will not defend my work any more than any other artist should. It is placed on view and the comments accepted. I am not being pompous btw, someone in a bar telling a tale to his friends adopts the mantle of artist and is vulnerable to the reaction of his audience.

      I am sorry your time was wasted but I think you should offset the disappointment with the many times a story has given you great pleasure and go on to find the next one to read.

      DF

  10. Just to clarify, I don’t feel my time was “wasted”, simply that there was an element of disappointment at a story that started strong and seemed to lose steam around the three quarter point.

    As for growth, I think we must agree to disagree there. There is hardly an author I have read who hasn’t developed throughout their career, and it is far more usual for a writer to do their best work at the end of their career than the beginning – and there is no author without the odd flat spot too. Whether it is HP Lovecraft, E. Hemmingway, or even J. Heller; though I’m sure some would disagree with me on the latter – I pick him as an example of an apparent exception that on more careful examination might be found to be no exception at all.

    I suppose I might reverse the question: why would you believe that an author would not become more skillful and sophisticated at their craft as their experience grows? Why would anyone keep writing if they thought the work they were doing wasn’t a step beyond what they did before? (Unless it were simply to pay the bills). I take it as a given that writers grow, the question is not whether there is growth, but in what direction at what speed.

    Futhermore, even in this case, I believe there is evidence of growth: the writing if not the plotting is more polished than before. Still, I see little point in writing a purely congratulationary comment when that’s not the whole story. I think it’s better to provide criticism as long as it is done politely and with the intent (at least) of being constructive, in the hope that it may prove useful in some way. Of course, most writers are their own greatest critics, but they also recognize that sometimes there are blind spots.

    I didn’t mean to imply that this was supposed to be written as no more than a postscript to the FM unpleasantness, but rather that after having been through that there would be a certain degree of relief and rebirth; that the first story written for this site would profit creatively from a fresh start. Perhaps I’m projecting here, but if I’d been in the same situation I would want to begin a new chapter in my writing with something that took me out of my comfort zone, so it was really just a personal position.

    As for defence, I think my point was that the “defence” will come in the form of work yet to come: that when seen in context and retrospect, a completely different picture of this work may emerge. Or it may not. Again, I would like to see more, so I’m not sure what all this talk about moving on is about. Of course I will read other stories by other authors, but no matter however many I read, I am unlikely to stop waiting to see what DF does next.

    1. Thank you again AmyA for your thoughtful and considered reply.

      We will have to agree to disagree on writer development. For every writer you can name who has clearly developed I can point to a one book wonder or someone who hasn’t produced a work as exciting as their first book. In fact some of my favourite novelists may fall under this category. Harper Lee, JD Salinger, Charlotte Brontë …. gosh the list grows longer every time I think about it.

      Interestingly some writers, Martin Amis is one, who equates youth and sexual energy to writing.

      I think this is not a discussion that is possible on a web board as entertaining and enticing as the prospect may be.

      You alluded to your own writing, would you be kind enough to give me a reminder of your stories or better still a link.

      Many thanks.

  11. DF

    This story is very good and I’m enjoying it. I look forward to Book Two. Thank you very much for sharing.

    CN

  12. Thank you Deborah!
    I have to confess i’m too greedy reading your stories…!
    I’m waiting anxiously for book No 2 and…, No 3 and … No n (n= infinity)
    You are the best!
    “gina”

  13. I can’t seem to get the “contact” page to work in any browser, and tangentially, the entire right hand side navigation window doesn’t show up in IE, so I’ll reply here. Feel free to bounce this in moderation so it doesn’t taint your comments with my personal babble. This isn’t really intended for public consumption so I’ll address you directly.

    You can find one of my stories on Fictionmania, the only TG one that’s finished, called The Doll’s House Hotel (Though that might not be the exact title, it was a long time ago). There’s another TG story of mine on there but it’s not complete. You can find me be author under AmyA. I moved to putting my work on Gromet’s Plaza (where you can find me the same way in the Latex Stories section) as I’m really only doing latex focus stuff now and it may be a long time before I write another TG story.

    The Plaza has an updated version of TDHH, though I notice it still has a few glitches where the search and replace went awry. I would recommend reading the newer reworking. I always felt that TDHH was a bit of a failure as a TG story because ultimately you could have swapped the protagonist for a female without making extensive changes to plot or character. Even if it fails, I set out to write a TG story and you will certainly find it makes a certain degree of homage to The Hotel, and not just in the title; the character of the Housekeeper takes a lot of her psychological approach from the Deborah Ford book of mind game plays. Ironically, you may find it more similar to the very specific kind of psychological approach present in Property than the looser and more varied methods of The Hotel.

    I like to think that one day I will return to the TG genre and do it right. I think one of the failings is that the eroticism in TDHH comes from latex fetishism rather than from the TG aspect. I rather doubt that you would find much to enjoy in TDDH, but I suppose I might be wrong: there might be something about the remorselessly mental conditioning of the Doll’s House Hotel itself that appeals to you.

    As a writer, I’m rather slow, or more accurately I am particularly slow at producing erotic fiction because I have many other commitments. It doesn’t surprise me that you also have problems finding time. I don’t mind the wait, but I think it bothers some people who expected the pace of release that you had with the early chapters to be sustained.

    Charlotte Bronte a one book wonder? Surely not. If you’d picked one of the other Brontes that would be true, but not Charlotte. All of her novels were outstanding, and as her career progressed she seemed to move further and further ahead of her time. As for Anne and Emily, they might have produced more had their lives not been cut so short. Salinger, well, I suggest you look at recent opinions of his later work, never mind the possibility that unpublished work that we will never see would confirm my thesis. With Harper Lee, her unwillingness to publish further does not necessarily indicate that her writing didn’t grow, merely that her critical expectations outstripped it. So you see, we shall never agree on that issue 🙂

    Funnily enough, Wuthering Heights remains an all time favourite of mine, supernatural aspects aside it has so many resonances with my own life and it speaks to me of themes that still feel fresh and immediate. Would it have been all downhill for Emily’s writing had she lived? I am inclined to doubt it, but we will never know. A progression of writing skill and sophistication is certainly evident in the Bronte juvenilia. I think it likely that she would have continued on to further greatness.

    In any event, I thought that my posts were complimentary if you read between the lines, so I hope you are not too offended that I suggested that there are pacing and plot problems with the latter quarter of Property. I want to clarify that I think that point only stands while there is no ‘book two’ or continuation of the story that could change the entire light that the first book is viewed in.

    If you feel your work isn’t improving, then perhaps you are suffering from Harper Lee’s disease 🙂 Hopefully it won’t stop you writing and publishing altogether. I am definitely looking forward to further works. However, it’s almost as if you do feel that Property is part of a progression, and perhaps even some frustration that The Hotel is seen by many as your defining work despite the quality of The Office Dupe and Best Laid Plans … or perhaps I’m imagining it. You don’t really discuss such things so I’m inclined to make stuff up 🙂

    1. Amya

      You can try my email address deblforuk@yahoo.com if you like.

      Will check out your doll’s house story at grommit

      Re writing time, it is odd that people accept how a novelist needs a year or sometimes more to complete a work even though he is working full time yet we part timers are often cajoled because of the time it takes. Personally I need to make a commitment to any tale I write. I am not someone who can write a sentence here and there. I need at least days if not weeks to make it all work. Sadly it doesn’t pay the mortgage so I have to wait until time and inspiration fall neatly together.

      Re “If you feel your work isn’t improving,”. I have never said any such ting nor do I make any attempt to defend my writing on these boards. If someone enjoys my scribbling then wonderful, if someone wants to throw a custard pie that is also fine.

      I may be my biggest critic. I have trashed entire stories because I didn’t like them let alone paragraphs, words or sentences.

      Re The hotel being seen as “my finest work by many”. This is a nice thought. Though some love others of mine If You Must and the short Happiness For All are often cited as favourites.

      Thank you again for sharing your thoughts in such detail.

      DF

  14. Hmmmmm… Totally fun Babe. Moist twists leaving my imagination… Erm… Engorged … Heh heh. I wonder what attracts assholes to come, read, then whine? Hey, just keep the stuff flowin’. It’s classic, great vintage…. Perky! This story will be collected, posted, traded, and treasured for eons. It’s legacy material… Every bit. Imagine, the whiners are poking at a maker of masterpieces, and reveling in responses. The best revenge is – turn up the creative taps FULL!

    Drown ’em in your… Erm… Product, huh? The crowd is chantin’ “MORE!”

    1. Twisting your imagination sufficiently to re enter the fray of scribe and illustrator? We can all live in hope. Trust your present muses are amply rewarding.

      Thank you for slinging off your robe of anonymity, the J D Salinger of this genre, to offer your support. Best wishes.

  15. The tease at the end of Book I has me literally salivating for more. Please, please, let us in on what Ms. Hodgson has in mind for her dear Danni, how she proceeds to guide his fantasy life into reality and beyond in the loving way
    he’s always dreamt of.

    Pray for the Muse to return soon….

  16. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the feeling of NEEDING to check everyday for a continuation of Debra’s stories!!! That feeling is here again!!!!

    1. thank you connie.

      The next book wont be ready for a very long time I am afraid. However I am looking to post a few stories by others very soon (just to whet your appetite!).

      DF

  17. Deborah – please, please don’t be discouraged from continuing this delicious tale. You’re just too good to stop – by far and away the best writer anywhere in this field. The exquisite situations you put your (un)lucky protagonists in, the logic traps deepening their subjection they can’t escape from, the plot twists and a thousand other clever devices all combine to conjure up a sensational world your eager and grateful readers are thrilled to immerse themselves in completely. I’m sure it’s hard to maintain such high standards, and Property of Harding Part 8 is a hard act to follow, but you’ve said before that you won’t start a story unless you know how it’s going to continue and end. So please don’t keep us in suspense too long!

    1. thank you Poppy. It takes me a long time to write these tales so I know I require acres of spare time to sit down and plan them.

      At the moment I dont see me having sufficient time for quite while, perhaps not this year.

      Thank you again.

      DF

  18. Brilliant, cant wait for the next installment. Read it twice now. please keep me informed. Got to know what his wife has in mind for him.

  19. There were notes for a second book, cannot remember now how far advanced they were. But nothing concrete i am afraid.

    DF xxx

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